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COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



Rosemary and Pansies 



EFFIE SMITH 




BOSTON 

RICHARD G. BADGER 

THE GORHAM PRESS 
1909 



Copyright, 1909, by Effie Smith 



All Rights Reserved 



7$ ■$* 3 7 

M«1 



TH« GORHAM PRM8, BOSTON, U. 8. A. 



©CLA2533 






DEDICATION 

TO THE MEMORY OF MY 
BROTHER MARVIN 



CONTENTS 

At the Grave of One Forgotten'. ...,.., 9 

The Shepherds' Vision. ... ... .,. ... .,.. .,. ., 11 

Heredity . .,. .,. . .,. . . . .,... ... . , 12 

The Wood Fire. .......... 13 

A New Year's Hope. ... ... .,. .1, . . ... ... 14 

To a Silver Dollar. . . ,. .,. . . ... .,. 15 

Preparation .......... 16 

Ghosts ...!.., ,. . 18 

The Rainbow ....... .,. . ,. . . 19 

Heroes 1. ....... ., 20 

The Recompense . . 21 

The Test . , 22 

To a Dead Baby. .,. ... .,. .,. .,. . . . . . . ., 23 

Thanksgiving . , 24 

Under Roofs . ., 25 

Forever .............................. 26 

If Christ Should Come ... . . . . .,. 27 

Gifts . .1. . .). . . . . ... . .,. . ./. . . . .,. .,. . . 29 

Benefaction ...... .,. .,. .,. ... ..... 30 

Historic Ground . ... .,. .< ,. . 31 

A Mountain Graveyard. ... ... .,. . . . . .,. 32 

After the Last Lesson. ., 34 



The Road to Church. . . . . ... . 35 

The Patchwork Quilt. .,. ... . . ... . . .... 38 

My Brother . .,. . . . . .,. .,. . ... ... ....... 41 

In Fuller Measure. ... . .,. ...... .1. ... . . 42 

October ........... .1 43 

Benignant Death . . .1. .,. 44 

The Unreturning ....... .<. . . ., 45 

When a Hundred Years Have Passed . . 46 

Fallen Leaves . .1. . . . 48 

December Snow ,. . .1 49 

Trust . .1. . ..... . . ...... .1 1. . ... ... . 50 

Toward Sunrise ... ........ 51 

Good Night >. . ., . 52 



ROSEMARY AND PANSIES 



AT THE GRAVE OF ONE 
FORGOTTEN 

In a churchyard old and still, 

Where the breeze-touched branches thrill 

To and fro, 
Giant oak trees blend their shade 
O'er a sunken grave-mound, made 

Long ago. 

No stone, crumbling at its head, 
Bears the mossed name of the dead 

Graven deep; 
But a myriad blossoms' grace 
Clothes with trembling light the. place 

Of his sleep. 

Was a young man in his strength 
Laid beneath this low mound's length, 

Heeding naught? 
Did a maiden's parents wail 
As they saw her, pulseless, pale, 

Hither brought? 

Was it else one full of days, 
Who had traveled darksome ways, 

And was tired, 
Who looked forth unto the end, 
And saw Death come as a friend 

Long desired? 
9 



Who it was that rests below 

Not earth's wisest now may know, 

Or can tell; 
But these blossoms witness bear 
They who laid the sleeper there 

Loved him well. 

In the dust that closed him o'er 
Planted they the garden store 

Deemed most sweet, 
Till the fragrant gleam, outspread, 
Swept in beauty from his head 

To his feet. 

Still, in early springtime's glow, 
Guelder-roses cast their snow 

O'er his rest; 
Still sweet-williams breathe perfume 
Where the peonies' crimson bloom 

Drapes his breast. 

Passing stranger, pity not 
Him who lies here, all forgot, 

'Neath this earth; 
Some one loved him — more can fall 
To no mortal. Love is all 

Life is worth. 



10 



THE SHEPHERDS' VISION 

Upon the dim Judean hills, 

The shepherds watched their flock by night, 
When on their unexpectant gaze 

Outshone that vision of delight, 
The fairest that did ever rise 
To awe and gladden earthly eyes. 

From no far realm those shepherds came, 
Treading the pilgrim's weary road; 

Not theirs the vigil and the fast 
Within the hermit's mean abode ; 

'Twas at their usual task they stood, 

When dawned that light of matchless good. 

Not only to the sage and seer 

Life's revelation comes in grace; 

Most often on the toiler true, 

Who, working steadfast in his place, 

Looks for the coming of God's will, 

The glorious vision shineth still. 



II 



HEREDITY 

Our dead forefathers, mighty though they be, 
For all their power still leave our spirits free ; 
Though on our paths their shadows far are 

thrown!, 
The life that each man liveth is his own. 

Time stands like some schoolmaster old and 

stern^ 
And calls each human being in his turn 
To write his task upon life's blackboard space ; 
Death's fingers then the finished work erase, 
And the next pupil's letters take its place. 

That he who wrote before thee labored well 
Concerns thee not: thy work for thee must 

tell; 
'Tis naught to thee if others' tasks were ill : 
Thou hast thy chance and canst improve it 

still. 
From all thy fathers' glory and their guilt 
The board for thee is clean : write what thou 

wilt! 



12 



THE WOOD FIRE 

O giant oak, majestic, dark, and old, 

A hundred summers in the woodland vast, 
From the rich suns that lit thy glories past, 
In thy huge trunk thou storedst warmth un- 
told; 
Now, when the drifted snows the hills en- 
fold, 
And the wild woods are shaken in the blast, 
O'er this bright hearth thou sendest out at 
last 
The long-pent sunshine that thine heart did 
hold. 

Like thee, O noble oak-tree, I would store 
From days of joy all beauty and delight, 
All radiant warmth that makes life's sum- 
mer bright, 
So that I may, when sunniest hours are o'er, 
Still from my heart their treasured gleam out- 
pour, 
To cheer some spirit in its winter night. 



13 



A NEW YEAR'S HOPE 

I dare not hope that in this dawning year 

I shall accomplish all my dreams hold dear; 

That I, when this year closes, shall have 

wrought 
All the high tasks that my ambitions sought, 
And that I shall be then the spirit free, 
Strong, and unselfish, that I long to be. 

But truly do I hope, resolve, and pray 
That, as the new year passes, day by day 
My footsteps, howsoever short and slow, 
Shall still press forward in the path they go, 
And that my eyes, uplifted evermore, 
Shall look forth dauntless to the things be- 
fore; 
And when this new year with the old has 

gone, 
I still may courage have to struggle on. 



14 



TO A SILVER DOLLAR 

Pale coin, what various hands have you pass- 
ed through 
Ere you to-day within my hand were laid? 
Perchance a laborer's well-earned hire you 
made ; 
Some miser may have gloated long on you ; 
Perhaps some pitying hand to Want out- 
threw ; 
And, lost and won through devious tricks 

of trade, 
You may have been, alas! the full price 
paid 
For some poor soul that loved ydu past your 
due. 

No doubt 'tis well, O imaged Liberty, 

You see not where your placid face is 
thrust, 
Nor know how far man is from being free, 

Bound as he is by money's fateful lust, 
While to his anxious soul like mockery 
Seem those fair, graven words: "In God 
we trust." 



IS 



PREPARATION 

"I have no time for those things now," we 

say; 
"But in the future just a little way, 
No longer by this ceaseless toil oppressed, 
I shall have leisure then for thought and rest. 
When I the debts upon my land have paid, 
Or on foundations firm my business laid, 
I shall take time for discourse long and sweet 
With those beloved who round my hearth- 
stone meet ; 
I shall take time on mornings still and cool 
To seek the freshness dim of wood and pool, 
Where, calmed and hallowed by great Na- 
ture's peace, 
My life from its hot cares shall find release; 
I shall take time to think on destiny, 
Of what I was and am and yet shall be, 
Till in the hush my soul may nearer prove 
To that great Soul in whom we live and 

move. 
All this I shall do sometime but not now — 
The press of business cares will not allow." 
And thus our life glides on year after year; 
The promised leisure never comes more near. 
Perhaps the aim on which we placed our mind 
Is high, and its attainment slow to find ; 

16 



Or if we reach the mark that we have set, 
We still would seek another, farther yet. 
Thus all our youth, our strength, our time go 

past 
Till death upon the threshold stands at last, 
And back unto our Maker we must give 
The life we spent preparing well to live. 



17 



GHOSTS 

Upon the eve of Bosworth, it is said, 

While Richard waited through the drear 

night's gloom 
Until wan morn the death-field should il- 
lume, 
Those he had murdered came with soundless 

tread 
To daunt his soul with prophecies of dread, 
And bid him know that, gliding from the 

tomb, 
They would fight 'gainst him in his hour 
of doom 
Until with theirs should lie his discrowned 
head. 

To every man, in life's decisive hour, 

Ghosts of the past do through the conflict 
glide, 
And for him or against him wield their 
power ; 
Lost hopes and wasted days and aims that 
died 
Rise spectral where the fateful war-clouds 
lower, 
And their pale hands the battle shall de- 
cide. 

18 



THE RAINBOW 

Love is a rainbow that appears 

When heaven's sunshine lights earth's tears. 

All varied colors of the light 
Within its beauteous arch unite: 

There Passion's glowing crimson hue 
Burns near Truth's rich and deathless blue; 

And Jealousy's green lights unfold 
'Mid Pleasure's tints of flame and gold. 

O dark life's stormy sky would seem, 
If love's clear rainbow did not gleam! 



19 



HEROES 

Men, for the sake of those they loved, 

Have met death unafraid, 
Deeming by safety of their friends 

Their life's loss well repaid. 

Men have attained, by dauntless toil, 

To purpose pure and high, 
The darkness of their rugged ways 

Lit by a loved one's eye. 

Heroes were they, yet God to> them 

Gave not the task most hard, 
For sweet it is to live or die 

When love is our reward. 

The bravest soul that ever lived 

Is he, unloved, unknown, 
Who has chosen to walk life's highest path, 

Though he must walk alone ; 

Who has toiled with sure and steadfast hands 

Through all his lonely days, 
Unhelped by Love's sweet services, 

Uncheered by Love's sweet praise ; 



20 



Who, by no earthly honors crowned, 

Kinglike has lived and died, 
Giving his best to life, though life 

To him her best denied. 

THE RECOMPENSE 

O ancient ocean, with what courage stern 
Thy tides, since time began, have sought to 

gain 
The luring moon, toward which they rise in 
vain, 
Yet daily to their futile aim return. 
Like thee do glorious human spirits yearn 
And strive and fail and strive and fail 

again 
Some starlike aspiration to attain, 
Some light that ever shall above them burn. 

Yet truly shall their recompense abide 

To all who strive, although unreached their 
goal: 
The ceaseless surgings of the ocean tide 
Do cleanse the mighty waters which they 
roll, 
And the high dreams in which it vainly sighed 
Make pure the deeps of the aspiring soul. 



21 



THE TEST 

"He fears not death, and therefore he is 
brave" — 
How common yet how childish is the 

thought, 
As if death were the hardest battle fought, 
And earth held naught more dreadful than 
the grave ! 

In life, not death, doth lie the brave soul's 
test, 
For life demandeth purpose long and sure, 
The strength to strive, the patience to en- 
dure; 
Death calls for one brief struggle, then gives 
rest. 

Through our fleet years then let us do our 
part 
With willing arm, clear brain, and steady 

nerve ; 
In death's dark hour no spirit true will 
swerve, 
If he have lived his life with dauntless heart. 



22 



TO A DEAD BABY 

Pale little feet, grown quiet ere they could 
run 
One step in life's strange journey; sweet 

lips chilled 
To silence ere they prattled; small hands 
stilled 
Before one stroke of life's long toil was done ; 
Uncreased white brows that laurels might 
have won, 
Yet leave their spacious promise unful- 
filled— 

baby dead, I cannot think God willed 
Your life should end when it had scarce be- 
gun! 

If no man died till his long life should leave 
All hopes and aims fulfilled, until his feet 
Had trod all paths where men rejoice or 
grieve, 

1 might have doubt of future life more 

sweet ; 
But as I look on you, I must believe 

There is a heaven that makes this earth 
complete. 



23 



THANKSGIVING 

Our Father, whose unchanging love 

Gives soil and sun and rain, 
We thank Thee that the seeds we sowed 

Were planted not in vain, 
But that Thy hand the year hath crowned 

With wealth of fruits and grain, 

But more we thank Thee for the hope 

Which hath our solace been, 
That when the harvests of our lives 

Have all been gathered in, 
Our weary hearts and toil-worn hands 

Thy welcoming smile shall win. 

We thank Thee for the cheerful board 

At which fond faces meet, 
And for the human loves that make 

Our transient years so sweet; 
We thank Thee most for hopes of heaven 

Where love shall be complete. 

Though on some dear, remembered face 
No more the hearth lights shine, 

We thank Thee that the friends we loved 
Are kept by love divine, 

And though they pass beyond our gaze, 
They do not pass from Thine. 

24 



If at the harvest feast no more 

Our words and smiles shall blend, 

We thank Thee that, though sundered far, 
Our steps still homeward tend, 

And that our Father's open door 
Awaits us at the end. 

UNDER ROOFS 

Between us and the starred vasts overhead 

Broad-builded roofs we spread, 

Thus shutting from our view the wonders 

high 
Of the clear midnight sky; 
Yet all our roofs make not more faint or far 
One ray of one dim star. 

Our souls build o'er them roofs of dread and 
doubt, 
And think they shut God out; 

Yet all the while, remembering though for- 
got, 

That vast Love, changing not, 

Abides, and, spite of all our faithless fear, 

Shines nevermore less near. 



25 



FOREVER 

We sigh for human love, from which 

A whim or chance shall sever, 
And leave unsought the love of God, 

Though God's love lasts forever. 

We seek earth's peace in things that pass 

Like foam upon the river, 
While, steadfast as the stars on high, 

God's peace abides forever. 

Man's help, for which we yearn, gives way, 
As trees in storm-winds quiver, 

But, mightier than all human need, 
God's help remains forever. 

Turn unto Thee our wavering hearts, 

O Thou who f ailest never ; 
Give us Thy love and Thy great peace, 

And be our Help forever ! 



26 



IF CHRIST SHOULD COME 

If Christ should come to my store to-day, 
What would he think, what would he say? 
If his eyes on my opened ledgers were laid, 
Would they meet a record of unfair trade, 
And see that, lured by the love of pelf, 
For a trivial price I had sold myself? 
Or would he the stainless record behold 
Of perfect integrity, richer than gold? 

If Christ should come to my school- room to- 
day, 
What would he think, what would he say? 
Would he find me giving the self-same care 
To stupid and poor as to rich and fair, 
And striving, unmindful of praise or blame, 
Through tedious tasks to a lofty aim, 
Guiding small feet as they forward plod 
In paths of duty that lead to God? 

If Christ should come to my workshop to-day, 
What would he think, what would he say? 
Would his eye, as it glanced my work along, 
See that all its parts were stanch and strong, 
Closely fitted, firm-welded, and good, 
Of flawless steel and of unwarped wood, 
As sound as I trust my soul shall be 
Wben tried by the test of eternity? 

27 



If Christ should come to my kitchen to-day, 
What would he think, what would he say? 
Would he find me with blithesome and grate- 
ful heart 
And hands well-skilled in the housewife's art, 
Bearing sordid cares with a spirit sweet, 
And making the lowliest tasks complete? 

Cometh he not, who of old did say, 
"Lo, I am with you, my friends, alway"? 
O thought that our weary hearts must thrill, 
In our toilsome ways he is present still! 
At counter and forge, in office and field, 
He stands, to no mortal eye revealed. 

Ah, if we only could realize 
That ever those gentle yet searching eyes 
Gaze on our work with approval or blame, 
Our slipshod lives would not be the same ! 
For, thrilled by the gaze of the unseen Guest, 
In our daily toil we would do our best. 



28 



GIFTS 

Myrrh and frankincense and gold — 
Thus the ancient story told — 
When the seers found Him they sought, 
To the wondrous babe they brought. 
Let us — ours the selfsame quest — 
Bear unto the Christ our best. 

If to him, as to our King, 

We the gift of gold would bring, 

Be it royal offering! 

Gold unstained by stealth or greed, 

Gold outflung to all earth's need, 

That hath softened human wo& — 

Helped the helpless, raised the low. 

Frankincense for him is meet, 

Yet no Orient odors sweet 

Are to him as fragrant gift 

As white thoughts to God uplift, 

And a life that soars sublime, 
Sweet above ill scents of time. 

Last, from out the Magians' store, 
Myrrh, as for one dead, they bore ; 
While, perchance, their lifted eyes 
Viewed afar the Sacrifice. 



29 



Let us to the sepulcher 

Bring a richer gift than myrrh : 

Love that will not yield to dread 

When all human hopes have fled; 

Faith that falters not nor quails 

When the waning earth-light fails, 

Saying, "Shall I be afraid 

Of the dark where Thou wast laid?" 

BENEFACTION 

If thou the lives of men wouldst bless, 
Live thine own life in faithfulness ; 
Thine own hard task, if made complete, 
Shall render others' toil more sweet; 

Thy grief, if bravely thou endure, 
Shall give men's sorrow solace sure; 
Thy peril, if met undismayed, 
Shall make the fearful less afraid. 

Each step in right paths firmly trod 
Shall break some thorn or crush some clod, 
Making the way more smooth and free 
For him who treads it after thee. 



30 



HISTORIC GROUND 

No song lends these calm vales a deathless 
name; 
No hero, to a nation's honors grown, 
Claims as his birthplace these rude hills un- 
known ; 
No pomp of hostile armies ever came, 
Marring these fields with storied blood and 
flame; 
And yet the darkest tragedies of time, 
Of love and death the mysteries sublime 
Have thrilled this tranquil spot, unmarked 
of fame. 

Here the long conflict between good and ill 
Has been fought out to shame or victory, 
Darkly and madly as in scenes renowned. 

Ah, though unnamed in human records, still 

Within the annals of eternity 

This place obscure is true historic ground ! 



31 



A MOUNTAIN GRAVEYARD 

What a sleeping-place is here ! 

O vast mountain, grim and drear, 

Though, throughout their life's hard round, 

To thy sons, in long toil bound, 

Thou from stony hill, and field 

Didst a scanty sustenance yield, 

Surely thou art kinder now! 

Here, beneath the gray cliff's brow, 

Sleep they in the hemlocks' gloom, 

And no king has prouder tomb. 

Far above the clustered mounds, 
Through the trees the faint wind sounds, 
Waking in each dusky leaf 
Sobs of immemorial grief; 
And while silent years pass by, 
Dark boughs lifted toward the sky 
Like wild arms appealing toss, 
As if they were mad with loss, 
And with human hearts did share 
Grief's long protest and despair. 

No tall marbles, gleaming white, 
Here reflect the softened light; 
Yet beside the hillocks green 
Rude, uncarven stones are seen, 
Brought there from the mountain side 
By the mourners' love and pride. 

32 



There, too, scattered o'er the grass 
Of the graves, are bits of glass 
That with white shells mingled lie. 
Smile not, ye who pass them by, 
For the love that placed them there 
Deemed that they were things most fair. 

Now, when from their souls at last 
Life's long paltriness has passed, 
The unending strife for bread 
That has stunted heart and head, 
These tired toilers may forget 
All earth's trivial care and fret. 
Haply death may give them more 
Than they ever dreamed before, 
And may recompense them quite 
For all lack of life's delight; 
Death may to their gaze unbar 
Summits vaster, loftier far 
Than the blue peaks that surround 
This still-shadowed burial ground. 



33 



AFTER THE LAST LESSON 

How wonderful he seems to me, 
Now that the lessons are all read, 

And, smiling through the stillness dim, 
The child I taught lies dead ! 

I was his teacher yesterday — 

Now, could his silent lips unclose, 

What lessons might he teach to me 
Of the vast truth he knows! 

Last week he bent his anxious brows 

O'er maps with puzzling Poles and Zone; 

Now he, perchance, knows more than all 
The scientists have known. 

"Death humbleth all" — ah, say not so ! 

The man we scorn, the child we teach 
Death in a moment places far 

Past all earth's lore can reach. 

Death bringeth men unto their own ! 

He tears aside Life's thin disguise, 
And man's true greatness, all unknown, 

Stands clear before our eyes. 



34 



THE ROAD TO CHURCH 

Rutted by wheels and scarred by hoofs 

And by rude footsteps trod, 
The old road winds through glimmering 
woods 

Unto the house of God. 

How many feet, assembling here 

From each diverse abode, 
Led by how many different aims, 

Have walked this shadowy road! 

How many sounds of woe and mirth 
Have thrilled these green woods dim — 

The funeral's slow and solemn tramp, 
The wedding's joyous hymn. 

Full oft, amid the gloom and glow 
Through which the highway bends, 

I watch the meeting streams of life, 
Whose mingled current tends 

Toward where, beyond the rock-strewn hill, 

Against the dusky pines 
That rise above the churchyard graves, 

The white spire soars and shines. 



35 



Here pass bowed mem with blanching locks, 

World-weary, faint, and old, 
Mourning the ways of reckless youths 

Far-wandering from the fold. 

There totter women, frail and meek, 

Of dim but gentle eyes, 
Whom heaven's love has made most kind, 

Earth's hardships made most wise. 

Apart, two lovers walk together, 

With words and glances fond, 
So happy now they scarce can feel 

The need of bliss beyond. 

Gaunt-limbed, his shoulders stooped with toil, 
His forehead seamed with care, 

Adown the road the farm hand stalks 
With awed and awkward air. 

The sermon glimmers in his mind, 

Its truths half understood, 
And yet from prayer and hymn he gains 

A shadowy dream of good 

That sanctifies the offering 

His bare life daily makes — 
His tender love for wife and child, 

And toil borne for their sakes. 

36 



Thus through the bleakness and the bloom, 
O'er snows and freshening grass, 

Devout, profane, grief-worn or gay, 
The thronged church-goers pass, 

Till, one by one, they each and all, 
Their earthly journeyings o'er, 

Move silent down that well-known road 
Which they shall walk no more. 



37 



THE PATCHWORK QUILT 

In an ancient window seat, 
Where the breeze of morning beat 
'Gainst her face, demure and sweet, 
Sat a girl of long ago, 
With her sunny head bent low 
Where her fingers flitted white 
Through a maze of patchwork bright. 

Wondrous hues the rare quilt bears! 
All the clothes the household wears 
By their fragments may be traced 
In that bright mosaic placed ; 
Pieces given by friend and neighbor, 
Blended by her curious labor 
With the grandame's gown of gray, 
And the silken bonnet gay 
That the baby's head hath crowned, 
In the quaint design are found. 

Did she aught suspect or dream, 
As she sewed each dainty seam, 
That a haunted thing she wrought ? 
That each linsey scrap was fraught 
With some tender memory, 
Which, in distant years to be, 
Would lost hopes and loves recall, 
When her eyes should on it fall? 

38 



Years have passed, and with their grace 
Gentler made her gentle face; 
Brilliant still the fabrics shine 
Of the quilt's antique design, 
As she folds it, soft and warm, 
Round a fair child's sleeping form. 
Lustrous is her lifted gaze 
As with half-voiced words she prays 
That the bright head on that quilt 
May not bow in shame or guilt, 
And the little feet below 
Darksome paths may never know. 

Yet again the morning shines 
On the patch-work's squares and lines ; 
Dull and dim its colors show, 
But more dim the eyes that glow, 
Wandering with a dreamy glance 
O'er the ancient quilt's expanse; 
Worn its textures are and frayed, 
But the hands upon them laid, 
Creased with toils of many a year, 
Still more worn and old appear. 

But what hands, long-loved and dead, 
Do those faded fingers, spread 
O'er those faded fabrics, meet 
In reunion fond and sweet ! 



39 



What past scenes of tenderness 
And of joy that none may guess, 
Called back by the patchwork old, 
Do those darkening eyes behold! 
Lo, the deathless past comes near ! 
From the silence whisper clear 
Long-hushed tones, and, changing not, 
Forms and faces unforgot 
In their old-time grace and bloom 
Shine from out the deepening gloom. 



40 



MY BROTHER 

(1882 — 1903) 

Dead ! and he has died so young. 
Silent lips, with song unsung, 
Still hands, with the field untilled, 
Lofty purpose unfulfilled. 

Was that life so incomplete? 
Strong heart, that no more shall beat, 
Ardent brain and glorious eye, 
That seemed meant for tasks so high, 
But now moulder back to earth, 
Were you all then nothing worth ? 

Could the death-dew and the dark 
Quench that soul's unflickering spark? 
Are its aims, so high and just, 
All entombed here in the dust? 

O, we trust God shall unfold 
More than earthly eyes behold, 
And that they whose years were fleet 
Find life's promises complete, 
Where, in lands no gaze hath met, 
Those we grieve for love us yet! 



41 



IN FULLER MEASURE 

"Dying so young, how much he missed I" they 
said, 
While his unbreathing sleep they wept 

around ; 
"If he had lived, Fame surely would have 
crowned 
With wreath of fadeless green his kingly 

head ; 
The clear glance of his burning eyes had read 
Wisdom's dim secrets, hoary and pro- 
found ; 
While his life's path would have been holy 
ground, 
Made thus by all men's love upon it shed." 

Doubtless could he have spoken for whom 
that rain 
Of teardrops fell, "How strange your sad 

words arel" 
He would have said; "In fuller measure 
far 
All that life gave to me I still retain; 

Love have I now which no dark longings 
mar, 
Fame void of strife, and wisdom free from 
pain." 



42 



OCTOBER 

O sweetest month, that pourest from full 

hands 
The golden bounty of rich harvest lands ! 
O saddest month, that bearest with thy breath 
The crimson leaves to drifts of glowing 

death ! 

In fields and lives, the fall of withered leaves 
Darkens the glorious season of ripe sheaves, 
For Life's fruition comes with loss and pain, 
And Death alone can bring the richest gain. 



43 



BENIGNANT DEATH 

Thanking God for life and light, 
Strength and joyous breath, 

Should we not, with reverent lips, 
Thank Him, too, for death? 

When would man's injustice cease, 
Did not stern Death bring 

Those who cheated and oppressed 
To their reckoning? 

Would not life's long sordidness 

On our spirits pall, 
If our years should last forever, 

And the earth were all? 

On us, withered with life's heat, 
Falls death's cooling dew, 

And our parched souls' dusty leaves 
Their lost green renew. 

Ah, though deep the grave-dust hide 

Love and courage high, 
Life a paltrier thing would be 

If we could not die ! 



44 



THE UNRETURNING 

If our dead could come back to us, 

Who so desire it, 
And be as they were before, 

Would we require it? 

Would we bid them share again 
Our weakness, foregoing 

All their higher blessedness 
Of being and knowing? 

For them the triumph is won, 

The fight completed; 
Do we wish that the doubtful strife 

Should be repeated? 

Would we call them from the calm 

Of all assurance 
To the perils that might prove 

Past their endurance? 

God is kind, since He will not heed 

Our bitter yearning, 
And the gates of heaven are shut 

'Gainst all returning. 



45 



WHEN A HUNDRED YEARS HAVE 
PASSED 

When a hundred years have passed, 
What shall then be left at last 
Of us and the deeds we wrought? 
Shall there be remaining aught 
Save green graves in churchyards old, 
Names o'ergrown with moss and mold, 
From the worn stones half effaced, 
And from human hearts erased? 

When a hundred years have fled, 
Will it matter how we sped 
In the conflicts of to-day, 
Which side took we in the fray, 
If we dared or if we quailed, 
If we nobly won or failed? 
It will matter! If, too weak 
For the right to strike or speak, 
We in virtue's cause are dumb, 
Some soul in far years to come 
Shall have darker strife with vice, 
Weakened by our cowardice. 
Every struggle that we make, 
Every valiant stand we take 
In a righteous cause forlorn, 
Shall give strength to hearts unborn. 

4 6 



When a hundred years have gone, 
Darkness and oblivion 
Shall our ended lives obscure, 
But their influence shall endure. 
Other eyes shall be upraised 
To the hills on which we gazed, 
And the paths o'er which we plod 
Shall by other feet be trod, 
While our names shall be forgot; 
Yet, although they know it not, 
Those who live then, none the less, 
We shall sadden or shall bless. 
They shall bear our boon or curse, 
They shall better be or worse, 
As we who shall then lie still, 
Have lived nobly or lived ill. 



47 



FALLEN LEAVES 

Beneath the frost-stripped forest boughs, the 
drifted leaves are spread, 

Vanished all summer's green delight, all au- 
tumn's glory fled. 

Yet, gathering strength from that dead host, 
the tree in some far spring 

Shall toward the skies a denser growth, a 
darker foliage fling. 

Ah, if some power from us, long dead, should 

strengthen life to be, 
We need not grieve to lie forgot, like sere 

leaves 'neath the tree! 



4 8 



DECEMBER SNOW 

The falling snow a stainless veil doth cast 
Upon the relics of the dying year — 
Dead leaves and withered flowers and stub- 
ble sere — 
As if it would erase the faded past; 
So on our lives does death descend at last, 
Hiding youth's hopes and manhood's pur- 
pose clear, 
And memories faint, to dreaming age most 
dear, 
Beneath its silence, blank and white and vast. 

The sun shines out, and lo ! the meadows lone 

Flash into sudden splendor, strangely 

bright, 

More fair than summer landscape ever shone ; 

Thus, gleaming through the storm clouds, 

faith's clear light 
Transforms death's endless waste of si- 
lence white 
To beauty passing all that life has known. 



49 



TRUST 

I came, I go, at His behest, 

So, fearing not and not distressed, 

I pass unto that life unguessed. 

Little the babe, at its first cry, 
Knows of the scenes that near it lie; 
Less still of that dim life know I. 

But Love receives the babe to earth, 
Soft hands give welcome at its birth; 
And so I think, when I go forth, 

There too shall wait, to cheer and bless, 
Love, warm as mother's first caress, 
Strong as a father's tenderness. 



50 



TOWARD SUNRISE 

When, in old days, our fathers came 

To bury low their dead, 
Unto the far-off eastern sky 

They turned the narrow bed. 

They laid the sleeper on his couch 
With firm and simple faith 

That cloudless morn would surely come 
To end the night of death; 

And thus they sought to place him where, 
When life's clear sun should rise, 
Its earliest rays might wakening fall 
Across his close-sealed eyes. 

Like a faint fragrance lingering on 
Throughout unnumbered years, 

Still in our country burial-grounds 
The custom sweet appears; 

Still, when the light of life from eyes 

Beloved is withdrawn, 
The sleepers' dreamless beds are made 

Facing the looked-for dawn. 

There, as the seasons pass, they seem 

Serenely to await 
The certain radiance of that Morn 

That cometh soon or late. 
5i 



GOOD NIGHT 

Dear earth, I am going away tonight 
From your long-loved hills and your meadows 

bright ; 
I know I should miss you when I am dead 
If a better world came not in your stead. 

For the sweet, long days in your woodlands 

spent, 
And your starry dusks, I shall not lament; 
For greater than all the wonders you show, 

earth, is the secret I soon shall know. 

Good night ! And now as I fall asleep 

1 give you the garment I wore to keep; 
You will hold it safely till morning dawn 
And I rise from my slumber to put it on. 



52 



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